


You Call this Healing?

by Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Asexual Character, Body Horror, Cannibalism, Daddy Issues, Demons, Drug Use, Emotional Constipation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family Issues, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insecurity, Invasion of Privacy, Lobotomy, M/M, Mild Gore, Mood Swings, Narcissism, Non-Explicit Sex, Overdosing, Past Abuse, Past Character Death, Prostitution, Sexual Humor, Shapeshifting, Trans Character, Trans Male Angel Dust, Trans Male Character, Withdrawal, hypersexual character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2019-11-13 10:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 15,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18030194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts/pseuds/Scorpius_Wears_Short_Skirts
Summary: It's not easy going clean.This fic will follow Angel Dust as he struggles with Redemption as well as trying to sort out how he feels about the Radio Demon.





	1. Unexpected Triggers

Angel Dust was a simple spider. He liked all of three things; Money, sex, and his pet pig Nuggets. That was the end of it. He didn’t have room for anything else.

Of course, then he wound up at the pet project hotel of the Princess and suddenly he had friends. Not close friends, but friends nonetheless. He hadn’t meant to get attached. Heaven, he hadn’t even meant to stay. It all just… happened. He didn’t really have much control over it now. He liked Charlie and Husk. He could even tolerate Vaggie most of the time. Alastor, though…

After Vaggie told him how Alastor got famous, or infamous rather, he had made a drunken pass at Alastor in a halfassed effort to get into the Radio Demon’s favor. Alastor, upon being propositioned, had promptly snapped his own neck. Angel gave him a wide berth after that. That didn’t mean they never saw each other though.

Alastor made Angel nervous. The guy was creepy, even by Hell’s standards. He had a tendency to stare. Not just at Angel, but at everything. Between the shark toothed grin and the lack of blinking, it gave Angel the impression that Alastor was hungry and only holding himself back from eating other demons because he had promised not to cause trouble for the hotel. 

At the moment, Alastor was at Husk’s desk with a book open in front of him but he wasn’t reading. Instead he was watching Nuggets, the pig, who was fruitlessly trying to root something out of the carpet. There wasn’t anything in the carpet, or under it, but pigs would be pigs. As usual, the staring made Angel nervous and he was for once sober enough to listen to his own sense of caution.

“Nuggets, come here buddy.” Angel called, and the pig oinked the whole way to the spider’s waiting arms. “How’d a sweet piggy even get to hell?” He wondered under his breath.

“It may be because pork is considered a sin to eat in several religions.” Alastor chimed. “As is shellfish!”

Angel looked up with a frown, “I wasn’t askin’ _you._ ” He said, then carried Nuggets to his room where he felt the pig would be safer.

Nuggets, to their credit, didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. Angel loved them for that. Nothing could phase a pig. They were fearless. Or maybe just stupid. Angel had heard pigs were one of the smartest animals out there, but Nuggets didn’t seem to fit that bill. That was fine. Angel liked knowing he could be the smartest thing in the room every now and then.

The spider sat down on the floor rolling a ball to Nuggets and smiling when the pig pushed it back. He rolled it again and sighed as a craving hit him. He wasn’t allowed drugs in the Hotel and after last time’s fiasco he couldn’t leave without a chaperone. It was annoying and without the assistance of narcotics there was just too much room in his head for thoughts he didn’t want. Thoughts he knew, rationally, didn’t even matter because he was dead and so was everyone else. Knowing didn’t make them hurt any less.

_Waste of space. Lost cause. Useless. Can’t even drink myself to death, I’m already here. Should just pick a hole and sleep in it for the rest of my afterlife…_

Nuggets noticed their owner had stopped rolling their ball to him and crawled into Angel’s lap. Angel picked Nuggets up again and hugged him, hiding his face in his pet’s side and trying to keep his crying quiet since once he started he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop for a few minutes at least. He just knew he was smudging his makeup all to hell, but it was an afterthought drowned out by the fact that he suddenly couldn’t breathe correctly. At some point he even started rocking himself and his pig, trying and failing to calm down. He didn’t even know what set him off this time, and that made it all the worse.

A knock sounded at the door, and Angel held his breath. 

“Mister Dust?” Charlie’s voice sounded, muffled by the door.

Angel scooted himself so he could rest his back against the door, just in time as the knob turned. The door didn’t budge, and there was another knock. Angel took a breath to get his voice under control.

_“What?”_ He snapped, wincing slightly as his voice cracked. “Can’t a guy get any privacy in his own room?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were still h-” Charlie cut herself off. “Vaggie saw you come up here and said you looked a little off.”

“Thought I ran off, huh?” Angel huffed. “Tell you what, doll. You can tie me down for some PCP. Hell, I’ll take a leash for some weed at _least.”_

He heard Charlie sigh, and what sounded like he whispering. Another voice chimed in to say something he only half-heard about not making exceptions.

“Oh hey, Vaggie.” Angel greeted, wiping his face and standing, putting Nuggets down on his bed. He glanced at the mirror on his vanity and grimaced. He’d definitely looked better.

“You know we can’t enable you. It would be counterproductive.” Charlie explained, even though Angel had heard it before. “Don’t you want to get out of Hell?”

_What’s the point in going to heaven if I’ll still have to put up with myself?_ Angel didn’t trust himself to answer that out loud without breaking down again, so he didn’t.

“I’m still here. I’m not tryin’a break out. I just… Look I don’t gotta explain why I’m in my _own fuckin’ room._ Just fuck off, a’ight?” Angel said, becoming angered.

There was no answer. Just footsteps. Nuggets oinked. 

Angel deflated, washed his face in the bathroom attached to his room, and curled up in his bed to take a nap. After some more unwelcomed thoughts he realized that the trigger had been how Alastor looked at his pig. He knew Alastor wouldn’t do anything to Nuggets but the thought of losing one of the only things he gave a shit about had been a heaven of a doozy... Added with his withdrawals it was a wonder he had’t snapped right there in the lobby.

He was too tired to deal with this shit.


	2. Weeds

Angel Dust didn’t know how long he’d slept. Time was weird in Hell so it didn’t really matter that much. He got up, fed Nuggets, then went right back to bed. He somehow itched _under_ his skin, which made no sense but was happening anyway. His eyes were watering for no discernible reason and he was glad he didn’t have a conventional nose because he just knew it would be running. 

“Thought bein’ dead meant you didn’t get sick.” Angel muttered to himself as he piled blankets onto himself, only to throw them off a few minutes later for being too warm. 

Lethargic and irritated, Angel eventually had to get up again when he noticed Nuggets getting antsy. Unwilling to have pig shit on the floor of his room, he clipped a leash to their collar and let them lead him to the courtyard. It was a fenced in part of the Hotel, so there wasn’t much risk of Angel escaping unless he felt like climbing electrified barbed wire. It used to be a regular fence, but mistakes had been made and learned from.

A few other residents were about. Ones he didn't recognise. Nobody but staff and himself were willing to stay at the Happy Hotel for long once they realized avoiding sin meant avoiding fun. The only reason Angel left is because he felt that he couldn’t. He was the first resident here. If he left it would mean Charlie had failed and although Angel’s morality was skewed, he did have his own personal code of conduct and the first rule was to never let his friends down. He had so few of those. He couldn’t disappoint Charlie no matter how much her policies pissed him off. She was a good kid. She just wanted to make a difference while the whole of Hell was against her. 

Having grown up gay in the 30s, he could relate. 

Speak of the Devil’s daughter, she was in the courtyard too, tending to a dead garden that had no hope of growing but was being cared for anyway. She was on the ground, tilling too-dry soil with her bare hands. She looked frustrated. 

Angel took the leash off of Nuggets, letting him be free to play, and moved closer to Charlie. 

“Need an extra hand, or four?” Angel offered. “Y’know you could liven this shit up easier by just shoving paper flowers in it.”

Charlie snorted. “Yeah, I could. They’d be fake though.”

“Fake’s just as pretty.” Angel pointed out.

“Maybe so…” Charlie conceded. “But real flowers mean more.”

“A flower’s a flower.” Angel shrugged and knelt to copy what the girl was doing; ripping dirt up to get it loose. 

Charlie looked up to thank him, but instead just blinked in surprise. “Wow. You look… tired.”

Angel froze for a moment as he realized he hadn’t put on makeup for the day and had only halfassedly washed off the coat from before. From Charlie’s reaction, he knew he must look like a mess.

“Well fuck you too, doll.” Angel huffed. 

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Charlie backtracked, then quickly changed the subject. “So… I’m thinking of hiring people to be therapists here.”

Angel squinted at her. Charlie continued.

“They’d have to be trained, of course. But I found some books that deal with trauma and I noticed a lot of sins are coping mechanisms and that a lot of people in Hell had bad experiences when they were alive or even horrible death’s that they might need some mental help with and-”

“Fuckin breathe, will you?” Angel interrupted. “Look I can’t speak for other demons but I don't think anybody’s gonna want to talk about their feelings to some hack bein’ paid to pretend to care.”

Charlie hummed, and Angel knew she hadn’t been discouraged at all. She was still going to try out her idea. Angel would no doubt be the guinea pig. It would backfire, or just not work. Charlie would make the sad demon eyes and they’d be back to square one again. It had happened before. It kept happening.

Nuggets chose then to waddle over and shove their whole face right in the dirt. Angel cringed, none too keen on having to give the pig a bath later. 

 

 

Alastor didn’t actually work at the Hotel. He was a sponsor. The only sponsor, but his involvement kept the place funded and he had a room for himself if he felt like having an extended stay. He did like the atmosphere, though he was well aware it wasn’t a place he would stay if he were treated as the patients were. He liked booze and chaos too much to want to be cured of it. If there even was a way to cure a Demon. None had been redeemed and sent to heaven yet and Alastor didn’t have a hunch either way if it would or wouldn’t work. He just wanted to see what the outcome was, whatever that would be.

And if he also had a few microphones hidden here or there, well, who didn’t love to spy a little?

A lot of things the microphones caught were of no interest to Alastor. Small snippets of friendly conversation, masturbation, the anguished but altogether pointless angry shouting at a hallucination from demons going through a particularly rough detoxification. All of these he glossed over, uncaring. What he wanted was information. He wanted to hear something he could use.

Still, the crying caught his attention. Most demons, when upset, got angry. Not this one. He listened to the recording in his own room for a while, but no words were said. It had been happening more and more often lately. He glanced at the room number for the bug and matched it to Angel’s room. His ear twitched at a particularly pathetic sob and he shut the recording off. He didn’t need to hear any more.


	3. Just a Simple Deal

Angel wanted out. Now. He was still sick, he still itched, he couldn’t tell if he was hungry or nauseous and all he wanted in the world at that point in time was to smoke, snort, or shoot up. Preferably all three, if he could swing it. He’d sent a letter to Cherri a few days ago to smuggle him something but her pockets had been checked at the door and the visit had been supervised so if she was packing anything in her bra there wasn’t a way to get at it without being obvious. It was nice to see her anyway, but not really what he wanted.

“Can I _please_ just go across the street?” He asked Charlie.

“To the vending machine?” Vaggie rolled her eye.

“...No.” Angel said defensively, crossing both sets of arms. “To the… Okay fine, yes to the vending machine.”

“You know we can’t let you do drugs.” Charlie said in a voice that may have meant to be soothing but was ultimately just grating Angel’s nerves.

“You don’t even have any money.” Vaggie pointed out.

“I could get a twenty in twenty minutes.”

“Lust is a sin too.” 

“Hard work isn’t!”

_“No.”_ Charlie put her foot down. 

Alastor picked that moment to peek through the door, his grin wider than usual. “Oh come now, surely the lad needs some enrichment. A walk could be good for him.” 

“We have the courtyard for that.” Vaggie huffed. “He only wants out to get high.”

“There’s other things I wanna do too.” Angel huffed, starting to count on his fingers. “Get laid, shoot stuff, drink… A typical monday, y’know?”

“All of those are bad for you. You can’t go out. Not alone.” Charlie stated. “Me or Vaggie have to watch you.”

“Perhaps I could chaperone?” Alastor offered. “I could keep him out of trouble.”

Charlie looked to Vaggie who was frantically shaking her head. Angel, oddly enough, looked discouraged by the idea. If anyone could get the spider to behave, it would probably be the Radio Demon. If anything bad did happen, Alastor could keep it out of the news with his considerable influence and they’d have to start over with Angel’s rehabilitation. For the latter, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“Okay, just keep him away from… anything he likes.” Charlie allowed.

Vaggie threw her hands up in defeat, muttering something that sounded like “Why do I try?”

“I’ll take him to a picture show and he will be on his best behavior, l just know.” Alastor beamed. 

“Better be porn.” Angel muttered.

“It will _absolutely not_ be pornographic at all!”

Angel grunted in disgust but allowed the enthusiastic deer to drag him out the door, plotting possible ways to ditch him. He had no interest in being babysat by Sir Smiles-a-lot. While brainstorming his escape, Angel was more than surprised then he realised Alastor had brought him to a bar. _What the heaven?_

“Hey, not that I don’t appreciate liquor but… isn’t drinkin’ on the list of shit of shit you ain’t supposed to let me do?” Angel asked, looking around the establishment. “This some kinda ‘resist temptation’ trap exercise?”

“My boy, even catholics drink wine.” Alastor said cheerfully. “Would you rather stay sober?”

“Fuck no.” Angel said quickly.

“Then enjoy your break! The ladies don’t need to know.” Alastor winked and put a claw to his lips. “It’ll be our little secret.” Alastor then ordered them both a glass of rosé.

“You’re payin’. I haven’t been allowed to work.” Angel huffed. 

“Of course. I didn’t expect you to anyway.” Alastor shrugged, his grin growing wider.

Something about the easy allowance rubbed Angel the wrong way. “Yeah, right. Sure. So what’s in it for you?” Angel asked, knowing nothing good ever came without strings.

“Perceptive, aren’t you? I just have a small errand to run in a few days and thought a pretty face might help my chances of getting through it more smoothly.” Alastor explained vaguely.

“You need a distraction.” Angel understood suddenly. “Gonna cost you more than a drink, depending who you got in mind.”

“Oh you’ll be paid more than enough.” Alastor waved dismissively but didn’t actually say who he planned to rob, taking a delicate sip of wine as Angel took a much less reserved gulp. 

The spider didn’t really like being kept in the dark when it kept to plans; Shit went wrong if you didn’t have the whole story. Still, if he agreed then he’d have both an out and an alibi as far as the hotel and Charlie were concerned. He could have a little fun without making anyone upset. He just had one concern he needed to address.

“Hell’s got more whores than me for cheaper. You sure I’m the guy for the job?”

“Of course!” Alastor was quick to assure. “He’s a fan of yours.”

That didn’t really give Angel much of a clue. He had so many fans that there was no good way to narrow it down. Money was money though and he could do with an emergency stash to hide in his room. He was sick of not being able to eat and then throwing up nothing just because of a lack of ambient drugs in his system.

“Lemme think about it.” Angel agreed. He was sold on the idea but he’d been brought up to haggle wherever possible and he wanted every benefit he might be able to squeeze out of the Radio Demon.

“I understand it’s a big decision, what with your _recovery._ ” 

Angel couldn’t tell if Alastor meant to sound condescending or not. It didn’t really matter. He was used to being looked down on and it only bothered him if he let it. He downed the rest of his drink, then snatched Alastor’s, who surprisingly allowed it.


	4. Softly Relapse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate all the comments. They've been getting me through the days. Thanks.

After a few weeks of being clean and sober, Angel Dust could not hold his wine as well as he thought he could.

“You know, for a creepy fucker you’re a pretty… pretty swell guy.” Angel praised, putting one of his lower hands on Alastor’s arm.

Alastor flinched at the contact. Angel didn’t notice, and Alastor gingerly removed the offending appendage. 

“Creepy fucker.” Alastor repeated, amused. 

“Eh, don’t take it wrong. As long as you don’t eat my pig we’re square.” Angel giggled, swaying in his seat. “Can I touch your ears?”

“No.” Alastor answered quickly. “I prefer you not touch me at all.”

Angel huffed, somewhat offended. “Fine, I’ll take my filthy whore hands somewhere else.” He took a step off of his stool and immediately lost his balance. He landed in a heap on the floor and started giggling.

“You are much more helpless while inebriated than I expected you to be.” Alastor cocked his head to the side. “Then again I suppose being off the sauce long enough would ruin your tolerance.”

“Shhhhuddup.” Angel picked himself up, wobbling a bit. “Just one bottle. I’m fine, look.”

Alastor just shook his head. “Well we can’t take you back to the hotel like this. Let’s get you some water and take a walk. I know a decent place for coffee.” In Hell, _decent_ was as good as things got.

“Hey Al-” Angel began after Alastor had managed to herd him a few blocks.

“Don’t call me that.” Alastor was quick to cut in.

“-What do you think’ll happen if I die here? Will I go to… like… Super Hell? Is that a thing?” Angel asked, leaning on a wall.

“I don’t know. I think you would just cease to exist.” Alastor said.

“Oh _nooooooo…_ ” Angel whined, starting to sniffle. 

“No way to tell, I suppose. Best not to think on it too hard.” Alastor noticed a few demon’s staring and nudged Angel roughly in the knee. He sent a wild glare at the other demons, who wisely averted their eyes. “Keep walking. You’re causing a scene.”

 

 

Meanwhile, across town, Charlie was pacing.

“They’ve been out for two hours…” She worried aloud.

_”You_ let them go. Don’t start fretting about it now.” Vaggie huffed. “Should’ve listened to me.” She added under her breath.

“What if they aren’t coming back?” Charlie started to pull her hair.

“One less headache for me.” Vaggie joked, then looked up to see the distraught look on her girlfriend’s face. “Oh, damn. Look, it’ll be okay! Angel left Nuggets here and he wouldn’t just abandon his pig. And Alastor’s dropped too much money on the hotel to just walk out. Come here.”

Charlie flopped onto Vaggie’s lap, hiding her face in the other’s stomach. Vaggie started brushing Charlie’s hair with her fingers. “Worst case, Angel got too handsy again and Alastor tore his arm off. He’s got three more though, it’s fine!”

Despite the gruesome visual, Charle giggled. 

It took another hour for Alastor to bring Angel back, the latter still nursing a massive paper cup of coffee. Vaggie could tell by smell it had nothing in it, a strong contrast to his usual over-sugared abominations. Vaggie raised a suspicious brow. Alastor met her gaze with a grin, no more suspicious than usual. She hated not being able to read him.

“How did it go?” Charlie asked sweetly.

Rather than actually answer, Angel went straight to his room, visibly grumpy the whole way, and slammed the door behind him. He knew he wouldn’t be let out again if the girls were aware he’d been drinking, so it was best for him to just avoid them until he’d had a nap. He could hear Alastor’s voice, though muffled, spinning the cover story they’d agreed on that he was just _so_ fascinated by all the new technology Hell was picking up secondhand from the Living Realm and that Angel, who had adapted better to new things, had been explaining them and that time had gotten away from them.

Angel appreciated the fact that the Radio Demon was willing to lie for both of them rather than just covering his own ass. It was selfish, of course, as he needed Angel’s cooperation for some big plan. All demons were selfish, though. Nothing new there.

Nuggets seemed happy to see him at least, squealing and squirming and running around underfoot and making walking difficult. Angel picked them up to give them a kiss between the ears, and then put them down again. 

Angel chugged the rest of his bitter coffee and set up a mat in his bathroom before dropping his clothes, which Nuggets decided needed to be made into a nest. The spider tended to sweat out his alcohol and though he hadn’t begun to smell yet, he knew he would. He sat on the mat and opened a nearby box that was filled with a fine, powdery sand. He took a scoop of it and dumped it onto his head, then started to scratch it through his fur so the grit could get to his skin. Then he brushed it out and it took any moisture and dirt out with it. 

_Damn, bathing got weird after dying._ Angel thought to himself. He missed showers, but with as much fur as he had it was hard to dry off all the way and he didn’t like smelling like mold any more than he did booze-sweat.

He brushed a few more times, just to make sure he wasn’t going to wind up with a sandy bed, fed his pig, then went to sleep. He’d clean up and fold the mat when he got up again, he’d decided; A problem for later. He regretted the decision when he woke up to find that Nuggets had strewn the sand all over the carpet.


	5. Sobering

Angel was in a much better mood after his outing with Alastor, Charlie noticed. Excluding the initial sour march to his room when he first got back. He was cheerful and almost polite, even offering to help with the other Hotel residents.

“Maybe he really did just need a change of scenery.” Charlie beamed.

“Not buyin’ it.” Vaggie sighed. 

“He’ll drop again in a day or less.” Husk gruffed from his desk as he picked through paperwork.

“Drop?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah. Drop. It’s a thing with addicts.” Husk explained, then as an afterthought added, “And a lot of mental shit, but in Angel’s case he’s happy for now,” He raised a wing to illustrate what he was saying. “But once that wears off and he has another craving.” He struck his wing down on the desk hard, scattering papers. “He’ll drop. Damn, could you hand me that?” He pointed to one of the papers that had fallen to the other side of his desk where he couldn’t reach without leaving his chair.

Charlie handed it back, thoughtful. She didn’t look to Vaggie. She didn’t need an _I told you so._ just this second. Just because Husk made sense didn’t mean his answer was the only right one. There were sides to this. She trusted Alastor well enough and didn’t think he would go against her. Not knowingly, at least. Angel, though. She’d given him enough benefit of the doubt. Angel _could_ be sneaky. Well, she could be sneaky too.

“Vaggie?”

“Yeah?” Vaggie answered, holding back her snark since she could read Charlie’s face fairly well.

“Take Angel out to see his family, or Cherri, or somebody. I need to search his room and make sure he doesn’t have a stash somewhere.”

“Good call.” Vaggie nodded. “How long do you need us away for?”

“At least half an hour.” Charlie answered, trying to ignore the twisting guilt in her stomach. 

Vaggie pulled her into a hug, kissing her forehead. Husk rolled his eyes. 

 

 

Angel was surprised to get to go out again so soon. Vaggie was going with him this time which wasn’t ideal. Even weirder when he said he wanted to hang out with Cherri and she agreed without a single snide remark. Something was up, but he didn’t know what. Oh well. He was still up in his spirits so whatever it was didn’t matter much. He and Cherri even managed to talk Vaggie into karaoke! Today was great!

“Nice to see you finally got that stick outta your ass!” Cherri once one song ended and the next began.

“Ey, we used to be friends before she left me for Princess Prude! No disrespect to the kid, she’s cute.” Angel said, bumping his hip into Vaggie’s side to try to get her to dance with him. “She’s too good for you though. All naïve and shit.”

“And you’re just shit.” Vaggie bit back, sitting down on a near couch instead. “Remind me why we stopped talking?”

“Ooooooh-hoo-hoo~” Cherri giggled.

“I’m just sayin you’re lucky the one person that don’t even deserve to be in Hell thinks the world of you.” Angel explained, then decided he was being way too sincere for comfort. “I’m surprised you ain’t dirtied her up yet.”

“And how would you know?” Vaggie snapped, folding her arms and frowning. 

“Oh, I’d know.” Angel assured.

“He’d _know._ ” Cherri repeated way too seriously, hanging an arm over the spider. “This bitch can smell it. Angel smell me.”

Angel grinned and took an obedient sniff of Cherri’s hair. He raised a brow and chuckled. “You disgust me.” He grinned as Cherri put a hand on his face and shoved him away as he cackled. He let gravity work and plopped down next to Vaggie

“You don’t even have a nose.” Vaggie pointed out.

Angel tapped the shiny pink spots under his eyes. “Yeah but these are like weird nose-eyes. I can smell with them and I can pick up shadows and colors with my real eyes closed. Real trippy shit before I got used to it…”

“I always thought they were freckles…” Cherri said, dropping heavily to lay in Angel’s lap.

“I can also taste with my hands.” Angel deadpanned, gesturing to his gloves. “My body is freaky.”

“Well you _are_ a spider.” Cherri pointed to her own eye. “At least you can see distance. Do you know how much this fucks my aim?”

“A lot?” Vaggie guessed knowingly, since she also only had one eye.

“A lot.” Cherri confirmed.

 

 

Charlie didn’t like snooping. She knew it was an invasion of privacy. Still, she had rules here. She had to make sure they were being followed. It was for Angel’s own good, after all. Nuggets following her around as she searched didn’t make her feel any better.

The first thing she noticed was that the carpet was sandy and that in it of itself was weird but not incriminating. There was a pig living in the room too. Messes happened. She checked obvious places first; the drawers, under the bed, between furniture and walls, under the bathroom sink, and the medicine cabinet. Those yielded nothing, so she started checking less conventional places. 

Stuck inside the back of the toilet just above the waterline, was a tightly woven silk bag. She didn’t know what was in it, and she couldn’t find a way to open it without destroying it, but it was suspicious enough. She took it, having to exert quite an effort to get it unstuck. Once she had that she checked over the room one last time, then put everything back as she had found it. 

She took the silk bag to her own office and put it in a lockbox for safekeeping. She’d talk to Angel about it when he got back. Hopefully they could have a civil conversation about things and he would understand she had gone through his things for a good reason. Hopefully. Even though she felt _awful._


	6. Drowning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is going to be a rough chapter. Fair warning for misgendering and mild ptsd.

When Angel returned he could tell something was off Someone had been in Angel’s room. Things had been moved, but not the pig-knocked-shit-over kind of moved. Things had been moved and _put back._ A person had been going through his room. Almost as soon as he realized this, his heart dropped and his blood went cold.

_“Angel, what is this?”_

Angel scratched through his hair, trying to ground himself as his mind was thrown back to a time when he’d had fewer limbs and less fur. It wasn’t working.

_“Don’t you ignore me, young lady. I asked a question, I expect and answer.”_

_“A drawing.” A younger, more human Angel responded quietly._

_“And what is this a drawing of?” His father’s voice was soft and demanding all at once. It made Angel feel sick._

_“Some fellas.” Angel answered lamely._

_“You think this is acceptable behavior between two boys?”_

_“They’re just holdin’ hands.” Angel tried to defend, then suddenly felt a burst of anger. “You think it’s fine to kill people that owe you money. Big deal, I’m a boy and I like boys. Why is **that** what you have a problem with?!”_

_“What would your mother th-”_

_“Ma knew!” Angel snapped, snatching his drawing back. “She didn’t give a shit! She said I was perfect anyway!”_

_His father sighed, and shook his head. “I’ve arranged for you to see a doctor.”_

Angel finally snapped back to himself on the floor of his room. He was at the hotel. He was part spider. Nuggets was laying on his foot and looking worried. He was dead. He was in Hell. His father’s decisions didn’t matter anymore and this time he knew it wasn’t his father that had gone through his shit. It didn’t matter anymore. It didn’t.

Angel stood up abruptly, taking no notice of the hot tears streaming down his face. He ripped blankets off of his bed and upended the frame. It made him feel somewhat better so he continued. He tore drawers out of the dresser. He yanked doors off of the cabinets. He tore down both window and shower curtains. Anything breakable that he could get his hands on wound up in pieces. He even pushed over his vanity, the mirror shattering with a crash and sending makeup all across the floor.

Nuggets’ terrified squeal was what finally broke him out of his destructive trance. They had hidden themself in a corner behind the bathroom door. Seeing his pig so scared of him, he deflated, all the rage falling out of him. He sniffled and knelt down.

“C’mere buddy. Daddy’s so sorry. You okay?”

Nuggets seemed to forgive him instantly, waddling right into his open arms. They weren’t hurt at all, just frightened. Angel knew he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he hurt his pig, even on accident. He was ashamed as it was.

“I heard a ruckus up here.” Came a sudden, filtered voice from the open doorway. 

Angel startled, holding onto his pet tighter, and looked up to see Alastor. He considered telling the Radio Demon to fuck off. He decided against it.

“Would you like to go somewhere else?” Alastor asked, looking around at the state of the room.

“Yes.” Angel answered quickly. He didn’t even care that he’d just got back. He wanted out again. 

“I’ll meet you in the Lobby in… say twenty minutes?” Alastor said and turned to leave.

“Yeah… Yeah that sounds good.” Angel nodded, wiping his eyes and picking up some of what he’d scattered. He wasn’t going anywhere without fresh eyeliner at the very least. He clipped a leash to Nuggets too, figuring they could go wherever he did. If not, well, he was in the mood for a fight anyway.

It was with one foot out of the door that he suddenly remembered to check on the bag he’d stuck to the inside of the toilet. He didn’t think anyone would find it there. He also hadn’t thought anyone would go through his room and look at what happened.

The bag was gone.

“Son of a BIIIIITCH.” He roared, stomping out of his room. “Which one of you motherfuckin’ walrus asses went in my room and stole my shit?!”

Several people scattered but Charlie stepped forward. “It was me.”

_“You.”_ Angel rounded on her. “Why the fuck-”

“Because I wanted to make sure you weren’t hiding anything. And you were.” She took the silk bag out of her pocket. “I confiscated this. It’s drugs, isn’t it? That’s why you’ve been in such a sudden good mood.” She spoke calmly, but in his emotional state, Angel only heard _smug._

“Drugs. Yeah, sure.” He snatched the bag and held it out of Charlie’s reach. “You wanna know what’s in this, Princess?” He tore the bag open with his claws, a small wad of bills and a scrap of a photograph fell out. “It’s a fuckin’ safety net in case I need to get out of here, which _clearly_ I do. I’m checking out.”

Charlie began to protest or apologize. Either way Angel didn’t care. He stuffed the bills and picture down his shirt and pushed past her to the desk where Husk sat staring. He reached over to grab one of the check-out forms. He signed his name more sloppy than he usually did, his hands shaking. He threw it back, picked Nuggets up despite the fact they were on-leash, and trudged out the door. He remembered a bit late that he said he would meet Alastor in the lobby, so he stayed in sight of the hotel, but he wasn’t putting a foot back in the building.

After a minute he guiltily wondered if he’d made Charlie cry. He hated when girls cried. It always reminded him of his sister. Charlie had made him feel unsafe though, so he tried not to give too much of a damn. She was in the wrong this time.

“That went rather dramatically.” Alastor commented dryly. 

“She crossed a line.” Angel huffed. “So how about that errand? Still need a pretty face?”

Alastor’s grin widened. “Your timing couldn’t be more perfect!”


	7. Bad Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick warnings for a non-graphic sex scene, body horror, and some mild gore.
> 
> Also my pacing is atrocious and I'm sorry.

It was a pretty easy job, Angel thought at first; Go over to a high ranking demon’s personal territory as a ‘gift from an anonymous friend’ and keep the bastard entertained for an hour. Literally all he had to do was keep the client in his room. He was even getting paid three times what he’d usually make in a week. What a steal!

Of course… The downside was that the job was _Vox_ and if Angel was discovered to be just a distraction then he would probably be in for an underworld of pain. Or his career would be ruined. One of the two. He supposed it was a good thing he didn’t even actually know what Alastor was actually doing. Only giving Angel the information he needed to do his part of the job and nothing more. A classic case of Half-Blind Mouse. He couldn't take any blame if he didn’t know shit.

Another problem was that once Vox brought Angel to his room Angel saw a whole wall of tv screens showing off different rooms of the estate. Those would definitely not help anything. Angel hoped Alastor was aware that there were cameras everywhere because he had no way to tell him.

“Like them?” Vox asked, having noticed where Angel had his eyes.

“Yeah, they’re… _thorough._ ” Angel grinned and tried to make a joke of of it. He took a seat on the edge of the bed and spread his legs. He was even careful tp position himself in a way so that Vox would have to face away from the cameras to get anywhere with him. “Got a camera in here too?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been filmed.” Vox pointed out, poking Angel where his nose used to be.

“Hey, I ain’t complainin’ baby. I just want a copy.” Angel shrugged. “Anything special in mind? I take requests.”

Five minutes later saw Angel on his back and probably the most bored he’d ever been. Honestly, _missionary?_ This was Hell. This was prostitution. He’d been paid for. It was okay to get weird. Make it interesting. Apparently the kinkiest thing Vox could think of was just self-congratulatory dirty talk which was funny but not helping in the slightest. Angel even pulled one of his legs up to his own shoulder to try getting a better angle but then Vox changed gears and somehow made it worse. They guy’s aim was worse than a blindfolded drunk playing darts.

Of course, Angel didn’t say any of this. He just made obscene noises to let Vox think he was doing anything and kept an eye on the wall of screens. It was difficult considering his current client's head was an actual box television wider than his shoulders, but Angel made do.

Alastor evidently did know about the cameras, because one by one all of the screens on the wall started to fizzle out into static. Not for the first time, Angel wondered what Alastor was even doing. He didn’t get to think on it long before Vox seemed to sense the disturbance in the screens behind him. It hadn’t nearly been an hour, so Angel tried to get his attention back on himself but Vox just shoved him away.

“You stay put, I’ve got to take care of a pest.” Vox gruffed, put his pants back on, and left the room in a flurry of cursing.

“Hey, you finally get rough and you’re just gonna leave me here?” Angel called after him, feigning anger but not actually caring. “Eh, you’re a boring bastard anyway.”

Angel waited a second to listen to Vox’s footsteps leave the immediate hall, then he hurriedly grabbed his clothes. He redressed in his outerwear, not wanting to waste time reclipping the lingerie he’d arrived in. Going commando was nothing new to him and his main concern now was getting as far as he could before Vox figured out he was actively involved in an act against him. Mortal demons could do enough damage and Angel had no wish to be at the mercy of one of the Hellborn ones. Charlie was an anomaly in how nice she was but other Hellborns weren’t so forgiving.

The hallways were a maze without a guide. The estate was too large and confusing and Angel would have just left through a window if not for the fact the ones he checked were sealed shut and he didn’t want to risk drawing attention by breaking one. He could have sworn the walls were moving.

He never did find the actual exit. 

 

 

There was a large screen blasting white noise and tv static at one end of the room. In front of it was Alastor, staring blankly into the bright, flickering light. His cane lay on the floor beside him and he suddenly dropped to his knees, still staring. His body seemed to ripple and melt, growing and shifting. Bones audibly snapped and reformed as the Radio Demon's breathing grew labored. His body became more animalistic. His face stretched into a deer’s skull, his ribs protruded, and his antlers grew longer. Black sludge started to drip from his mouth. Still, his eyes never left the screen. It was apparent that his mind was currently absent.

Angel was in such a state of shock at seeing the shift that it took him a moment to realize Vox still hadn’t seen him in the doorway. He turned around, considering going back the way he came. No reason to get involved. He’d already been paid and this wasn’t his business. But then Alastor screamed and Angel knew he couldn’t just leave him there.

“Dammit,” He muttered to himself, and tried to decide on a plan that might not get both of them killed.

Clearly the light was the biggest problem. Vox was busy laughing like a cliche cartoon villain. Angel cursed himself under his breath and ran to Alastor, grabbing the deer’s skull and pulling it to his chest to block the light with his body. Instantaneously, Alastor snapped out of the trance. He shut his eyes and got to his feet, hooves at this point in time, and turned away from the screen. Angel shifted, not expecting a reaction so suddenly, but clung to Alastor’s neck as the deer fled from the room through a window.

“What the-?” Vox started, but Angel didn’t hear anything else past the crash of breaking glass.

Angel was glad he had four hands to hold on with because Alastor didn’t slow down until they’d made it to the outskirts of the other side of the city. As soon as they found shelter behind an overturned dumpster, Alastor collapsed. Being closer and actually having the time to look, it was a wonder he’d been able to run at all. There were several TV antennas poking through the warped deer body, and he’d practically been gutted. How that much damage had been done while Angel was lost in the mansion.

“I just saved your afterlife and you got to put your face in my fluffy tits for free. You better be fuckin grateful, pal.” Angel huffed, trying to comb drying sludge out of his fur with his fingers. He was trying to play the whole thing off as a mild inconvenience but his hands were shaking.

Alastor didn’t answer. He had passed out.


	8. Low Burner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing my headcanon nobody asked for: Secretly Cajun Alastor

Angel didn’t waste time pulling the antennas out of Alastor’s body while the Radio Demon was unconscious. He wasn’t a doctor by any means but he knew those couldn’t stay in and it would be better to remove them while Alastor couldn’t feel it. It was also lucky that Alastor wasn’t awake to see how Angel made his webs, which was embarrassing. 

The simplest, and also most crude way to describe the way Angel made webs was that it both looked and felt like vomiting silk. Useful to help bandage up the wounds, but definitely Angel’s least favorite thing about his anatomy. He didn't _hate_ it exactly, but he never did it in front of anyone.

Other than a few pained groans, Alastor showed no sign of waking. They couldn’t just stay behind a dumpster in a random alley, though, so Angel set to work dragging the other demon’s body by the antlers through an endless string of backstreets to avoid anyone seeing them. His own reputation had fallen far enough being in the Hotel. He didn’t need some sleazy tabloid shithead taking pictures and making up weird rumors.

“You know, you coulda waited til you turned back into your usual person-shaped self and made this a bit easier, but no.” Angel grumbled, having decided if he was going to continue helping that he could complain as much as he wanted. “Just had to be a bigass bambi spook.”

 

 

“Wahhappund?” Alastor wheezed when he came to, pulling his larger form into a smaller humanoid one. It took more effort than he was used to and hurt fiercely. 

“Huh.” A high voice sounded from somewhere to Alastor’s left. He looked over to see an upside-down Angel. No, wait. Angel was right-side-up. Alastor was flat on his back on a too-soft bed. “That’s a new accent. You get fucked up so bad you changed personality too?”

“I’m from N’Orleans.” Alastor said as he sat up, then made the mental switch from his natural Cajun to the voice he used for Radio and almost everything else. “But I am also a performer! I would never have been hired as a Host if I didn’t sound like one.”

“You sound fine t’me.” Angel shrugged. “But hey, what do I know?”

Alastor didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. Instead he looked down at the bloody silk bandages he had shrunk out of when he shifted, then at the unfamiliar room. He didn’t remember how he’d got there. The last thing he remembered was dismantling most of Vox’s Network with the intention to replace it with his own, then sharp pains spearing through his body. After that was just a bright white blank.

“Where are we?” Alastor asked.

“Crack House.” Angel replied.

“Oh. A drug den. Of course, I almost forgot who I was with. How silly of me.”

“Not _a_ crackhouse. Crack House. It’s uh… where I used to work before I got big.” Angel explained.

Knowing more than enough about Angel’s idea of work, Alastor vacated the bed as swiftly as he could, aggravating most of his injuries in the process.

“Oh relax. They bleach everything hourly.” Angel chuckled.

“Why are we in a _brothel?_ ” Alastor demanded with a discomforted shudder.

“Because I know the people here and it was the closest place to where you hit the ground that I knew would be safe for us.” Angel defended.

“I hit the…” Alastor trailed off, thoughtful. “You saved me.”

“Yeah, you almost got us royally trashed and I’m amazin’. If you get all weepy about it I’m leavin’.” Angel joked. “You’re heavy as shit, by the way.”

Alastor fell quiet for a long time. Long enough for it to be uncomfortable. The failure meant his ego had taken quite a blow and his botched plan meant he couldn’t try again any time soon because now he had Vox’s attention. Vox would most likely publicize the attempted takeover and that would get other Higher Demons attention as well. He would need to lay low for decades. 

Then there was Angel, whom he’d thought of as a tool to use to meet a goal. Surely Angel knew this. Angel could have left him for whatever would be death after dying, but he hadn’t. Angel had saved him and taken him to a sanctuary of sorts. There had even been a clear attempt at medical attention which was shoddy at best, but had given him a chance for his skin to knit back together and his organs to regenerate. He wasn’t completely healed, of course, since he was still in pain and standing was starting to make him feel woozy. He sat back down on the edge of the bed before he made himself look foolish by tipping over.

“I’ve never seen you not smile before.” Angel stated, pulling Alastor from his thoughts.

“Blame it on the internal bleeding.” Alastor beamed, plastering on his grin. “It won’t happen again!”

“Nah, I think it’s kinda nice. Lets me know there’s actually a person in there instead of just a creep-machine.” Angel mused aloud, then shook his head. “Well you’re awake now so you don’t need me to be here to watch your ass. I’m gonna beat it. This room’ll keep for another day while you heal the rest of the way.” 

Angel stood and moved toward the door.

“Wait.” Alastor said quickly, before he could stop himself. He hadn’t meant to; his mouth just worked without him.

Angel stopped, raising a curious brow. 

Alastor for once didn’t know what to say. He usually had everything planned out to the letter. Even if things with Vox went south, which they had, he’d been prepared to be erased while Angel left to save himself. But Angel had saved him. Angel stayed with him for who knows how long while he healed. Angel helped him heal. Alastor was so used to being reliant solely on himself and knowing how selfish other demons were that he’d never planned for Angel, who even now was still waiting for him to say something.

“Don’t feel safe by yourself, huh?” Angel guessed, when Alastor had stayed quiet for too long. “I guess I don’t have to leave right this second.” Angel admitted, sitting back down.

Unable to think of anything else, Alastor simply said, “Thank you.”


	9. Buzz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long...

The two couldn’t stay at the Crack House for too long. Angel had to get back to Nuggets and in not-as-many words, Alastor had things to do. Both Nuggets and things were at Alastor’s home under the Radio Tower, so they made their way there as soon as Alastor was able to walk without assistance. He still needed to rely heavily on his cane, but carrying a cane at all times meant no one thought it odd when he actually used it for support.

Alastor’s home was a small, but neat place. At least in the living space. The kitchen was a nightmare and Angel hadn’t seen the bedroom. The basement was a bit of a mess, but only because Nuggets had been down there by themself for days. They definitely needed a bath but other than being a bit hungry and annoyed at being left alone, they were fine. 

“Sorry about your floor…” Angel muttered to Alastor.

“Oh that’s alright. I expected as much. The pig _is_ a pig.” Alastor shrugged, picking through a rack of jars mounted on the wall. “You’re cleaning up after it, though.”

“Later. I’m bushed…” Angel started to sprawl on a plush chair next to a desk covered in more wires than he could count.

 _”Now.”_ Said Alastor sternly. “Before it gets any worse.”

“Okay. Damn. I’ll clean it up now. Where’s your mop?”

 

 

After the basement was spotless and Nuggets had had a bath, _then_ Angel was allowed to relax, though not in the chair near the desk. Alastor took that one, donning a pair of headphones and turning various dials on a complicated looking box on the desk. Angel was curious of course, but Alastor seemed the sort of focused that had no patience for distraction.

Next to Alastors arm was a jar that Angel had originally assumed to be homemade moonshine or something similar, but when he looked closer he noticed there was an eye in it. From further away it had looked like a maraschino cherry, but no. Definitely an eye.

“Yeesh…” Angel grimaced when Alastor took an unbothered sip from the jar.

Well this _was_ Hell. Even the demons who seemed nice enough had to be fucked up somehow. At least the eye didn’t belong to anyone he knew. At least that he was aware of. Hopefully. 

Angel wasn’t sure if he should take Nuggets and leave or not. He didn’t really have anywhere specific to ho. The Happy Hotel had put an end to his job while he was gone but he didn’t know if he could just go back to porn acting without some sort of hassle. Sure he had a reputation in the industry, but if somebody new had taken his spot that wouldn’t mean much. If you got pushed out of a top spot it was hard to get it back. At least there was always prostitution. 

Angel did leave the basement, then the house. He didn’t leave the immediate area, instead leashing Nuggets to a shrub. He scaled the wall of the house and sat on the roof, appreciating the faint buzz he could feel radiating from the radio tower. He dug through his pockets to find a half burnt-out cigarette he had found on the ground a while ago. He lit it with a flip lighter from a different pocket and took a long drag. It didn’t last long enough.

A siren went off in the distance, signalling an extermination had begun. It was too far to worry about, so Angel stayed where he was. He laid back, staring up through the gaps in the radio tower. There was no sky in hell, just a void. No stars, even out away from the city. The only thing from above they ever say were greyed out Angels on their ways to erase demons so there would be room for more. Every few days another section of Hell was blocked off and cleared out. He hoped Cherri was okay. And the people at the Hotel… And his family. 

Footsteps on the roof caught his attention and turned his head to see Alastor approaching. Angel sat up, almost standing before Alastor sat down next to him, not touching but near enough to feel some sort of confusing closeness. 

“Looking for stars?” Alastor asked.

“Baby I _am_ a star.” Angel grinned. “Who needs little spots of light? Just toss some glitter on me.”

Alastor’s smile lessened, but that somehow made it look more real. There was something in his eyes too that Angel couldn’t place. He got the feeling that he had made Alastor laugh even though the Radio Demon hadn’t made a sound. It made Angel feel a strange sort of warm to see.

“I have to say I much prefer fireflies to stars. They were so much closer.” Alastor held a hand out in front of him, as if trying to catch a small insect that didn’t exist. 

“Got a thing for bugs, huh?” Angel joked, gesturing to himself with all four hands.

Alastor rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I’m sure you’re quite fetching with the right lighting.”

“You callin’ me ugly now?” Angel challenged, though without any real offense taken.

“You _have_ been without proper hygiene for a few days. Your fur is stained.”

“With your blood.” Angel pointed out, then purred. “Ain’t the worst thing that's stained my fur. You shoulda seen me after-”

Alastor stood up quickly, the false, too-wide smile covering up the real one that had been there before. “I’m leaving.”

“No, wait.” Angel said, and crossed all of his arms to make a show of keeping his hands to himself. “I’ll shut up. I forgot you’re a prude for a second.”

“Since when have you ever cared about others’ boundaries?” Alastor asked. 

“Longer than you’d think.” Angel defended. “Fuck, I know I’m a slut but I’m not…” Angel paused, remembering a few of his own less than gold star behaviours. “Okay sometimes I’m pushy and can’t always take a hint right away but I sure as hell understand a clear ‘No.’ when I hear it.”

Alastor turned his back on Angel. “It’ll always be no wit’ me.” He said quietly, dropping the Radio Voice.

“Hey, I get that. I’m not your type.” Angel shrugged, and was confused by the sudden cold feeling it brought to his heart. He usually didn’t enjoy rejection, though, so he chalked the feeling up to the blow to his vanity. 

“It ain’t you specific’ly.” Alastor corrected, and left the roof as a shadow.


	10. Too Much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is mostly filler to set up something so it's a bit short. Sorry about that.

Angel spent a week couch surfing with Cherri, then moved on to trading sex for safe places to sleep. It was just until he got back on his feet. He had to re-establish himself in the porn industry and that took time even when he had a reputation already. He had to save up enough to get his own apartment and be able to make himself look and feel presentable before getting back into serious business.

As expected there was a pretty new face on all the latest dirty magazines. She was some sort of cat, like a lion or something, and Angel could respect a fellow whore. That didn’t mean he appreciated her taking his spotlight. Checking on the latest films yielded the same exact situation. The new girl even had a line of greeting cards. Angel wondered how he hadn’t thought of that. Sure, he’d had autographed pictures, but those weren’t as fun as cards.

Oh well. At least he could do whatever he wanted now that he was free from the Happy Hotel. No Vaggie threatening him. No Husk making rude remarks. No Charlie… He knew he probably made Charlie cry. Even though she was the one in the wrong didn’t make him feel better about it. Heaven, she had probable cause. She went through his room because she didn’t trust him and who could blame her? Angel wouldn’t trust himself either. 

Every now and again Angel considered going back to the Hotel, but then he’d find something to eat, smoke, snort, or even inject and remind himself the Hotel wasn’t any fun. He belonged high out of his mind in the arms of some stranger whose face he would forget within the hour. He belonged in the midst of gunfire and explosions and laughter. He belonged where nobody could tell him what to do and what not to do. Even if that meant curled up in a corner, shivering and puking his guts out. 

Angel had died the first time this way, but you couldn’t die of an overdose in Hell. You just had to wait through the effects and hope you passed out before it got too bad. No such luck this time. Angel was awake and had to feel the sharp pain in his chest, the fever, the seizures. He told himself that it was fine, once he was coherent again, that his tolerance would return and he wouldn’t fuck up again. He knew he should have started slow to begin with but he’d never had strong impulse control.

It wasn’t long before a black van pulled up to Angel, two demons pulling him into the back of it. Angel just let it happen. He knew who the van belonged too and he was too tired to bother fighting the abduction. Once he’d sat up, several familiar arms came to crush him.

“Angel! It’s been forever!” 

“Hey Molly…”

 

 

Charlie was trying. She really was. It was hard though. Nobody who checked into her Hotel wanted to stay very long and since Angel left there were fewer even checking in in the first place. Alastor helped keep the place funded, so it wasn’t out of business, but she got the feeling that the Hotel was quickly becoming a failure. 

She’d also been tearing herself up inside over Angel leaving. It was her own fault. It didn’t matter that Husk’s words had gotten to her. It didn’t matter that Vaggie agreed. Charlie had been the one to betray Angel’s trust when he hadn’t done anything wrong. If she had just left his room alone then he would still be around. He might have even been saved by now. Even if he was never a resident, she still thought of him as a friend.

“Do put on a smile, dear. I’m sure Angel is happier now. You know how trapped he felt.” Alastor encouraged, though it only served to make Charlie feel worse.

“I didn’t mean to make him feel trapped at all. I just wanted him to be happy. I want everyone to be happy.” Charlie explained. 

“I don’t think any demon can really be happy.” Husk grumbled. “Hell isn’t supposed to be happy. Should’ve just opened a casino or somethin’.”

Vaggie set a glare on Husk before pulling Charlie under her arm. “You tried. You’re still trying. That’s what counts, isn’t it?”

Charlie looked around at her girlfriend’s encouraging smile, Alastor’s somewhat unsettling one, and Husk’s indifference, and decided two out of three wasn’t bad. Sure, the Hotel was failing, but it hadn’t failed yet. There was time to turn it around. This could still work.


	11. Cravings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel is hungover and Alastor is having emotions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. That pilot.  
> Sorry I left this alone so long. Work kills my creative energy but the pilot brought it back! Some stuff in earlier chapters may not be canon compliant now but oh well. I'll just call it an adjacent universe instead of an alternative one? Still have lots of headcanons though.
> 
> Warnings for gore in this one! Also old fashioned conversion therapy is mentioned/implied.

“Dad wants to see you.” Molly explained as the car moved.

“Yeah I figured. What for this time? Somethin’ stupid, I bet.” Angel sniffled, scratching through his fur. “Can’t it wait til my body stops trying to fuckin’ die again? I think my heart went and exploded. I hurt too much to be talkin’ to anybody.” 

“He said he wants you close so he can protect you.”

“Bull-”

“Vox set a bounty on you. You’re not on the news yet but Dad knows people.”

“Oh…” Angel winced. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“The Radio Demon’s got a bounty now too, but he’s too big for anybody to actually do anything to him.” 

Angel sighed heavily, and pushed himself off of the seat to lay down on his back in the footwell of the car. He shut his eyes and covered them with two hands, while the others rested idly on his stomach. Molly watched him with a frown.

“I know Dad did you wrong before, but he’s been real sorry. He misses you, Angel. He really does.” Molly said softly, reaching to pet her brother’s hair. “He wants you to be safe.”

“Right.” Angel laughed bitterly, letting one hand fall from his face to join the others on his stomach. His remaining hand pointed to his left eye, the one blacked out. “He didn’t keep me safe from a fuckin’ lobotomy. He didn’t keep me safe from bein’ shocked forty fuckin’ times an hour.” Angel sat up, reaching for the handle of the door despite the car moving at a high speed. He got the door open, not really caring if he fell out and got caught under the wheels. He’d just regenerate. Sure it would be a slow and painful process, but it was better in his mind than having to face his father after decades of avoiding him.

Molly didn’t let that happen. She yanked him back, shutting the door.

“What the Heaven, Angel?!”

“I don’t wanna be under Dad’s dirty boot again! I’d rather be roadmaimed. Besides, if Alastor’s on a hitlist, he should know.”

"The Radio Demon'll be fine! Prob'ly!" Molly assured, then turned to tap the driver. "Hey, put the child lock on the back doors, will ya?"

There was an audible click and Angel groaned, collapsing back into the floorboard and rolling onto his side. "Just for that, I'm gonna chuck on your shoes."

Molly picked her feet up quickly just as Angel started to vomit. Again.

 

 

Alastor was concerned. He did not often feel concerned, but every now and then he would see a screen flicker as he passed a display on the street. He had healed and would be fine, of course, he was sure of that much. Still, he didn't like the feeling of being watched. Screens were everywhere, he noticed.

Alastor also hadn't seen Angel Dust since the spider had left his radio tower and while he was loathe to admit it, he was worried about Angel's wellbeing. He couldn't help constantly thinking back to their talk on the roof. They had both been in pain and filthy and so very tired, but Angel was… not alive but _lively_ , and so incredibly genuine. 

Alastor was a mask of smiles and bravado but just for a moment he had let Angel see past the Radio Demon and instead of being disappointed or fearful, Angel had simply seen a man. His brow furrowed and his smile widened in annoyance. He needed a distraction. He wasn't a man anymore, he reminded himself. The man had died. He was a demon now, and demons did not get attached to others. Demons did not worry.

Luckily for him, a distraction dropped right in front of him. 

Charlie found Alastor later down in the hotel kitchens, a gagged and struggling lesser demon strung upside down from the ceiling. They had been skinned and their organs were in a bucket next to the corner.

"Alastor!" Charlie said, annoyed and surprised. "What are you doing?!"

"Cooking!" Alastor replied cheerfully as he continued his task of stripping muscle from bone, laying the pieces out on wax paper on the counter. A large pot already sat bubbling on the stovetop, and there was a warm sweet scent coming from inside the oven. "I know you can buy meat at any old market but then how do you know where it's been?"

"How do you know where this one's been?" Charlie countered. 

"Easy! He's fresh from earth and just dropped in."

"Then we should be welcoming!" Charlie huffed, untying the lesser demon and lowering them gently to the floor, dumping the bucket of organs back into the cavity of his body and making an effort to put everything back where it should be. "I'm so sorry about this."

The mangled demon, for his part, could only wheeze painfully.

Alastor rolled his eyes, "Oh, you're no fun."

"What's got into you, Alastor? You were getting better lately." Charlie sighed. "Don't tell me I'm failing you too now…"

"I was never getting better, Charlie. Just less bored." Alastor said, and pointed to the one on the floor. "Though you might be relieved to know _that_ belongs in the lowest circle and I'm not doing anything worse than he would get that far down. It's a mercy, really."

"Is it really mercy?" Charlie asked, a bite to her words that she didn't normally have. "Or did you just need to let off some steam? Do _you_ feel better?" 

Alastor didn't respond. He just watched Charlie drag the injured away, trailing a large smear of blood as they went. Oh well, he'd taken off enough meat to get a decent gumbo started and he knew Niffty would be around to clean up within the next twenty minutes or so anyway. He did not feel remorse for his actions, but Charlie's accusation rang in his head. He didn't feel better. He just felt hungry like always.

Some traitorous voice in the back of his head pointed out that he hadn't felt hungry with Angel around.


	12. Overdose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel goes to see his father against his will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets dark, yall
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: suicide mention, drug overdose mention, references to transorbital lobotomy, and parent-child arguing

"All the fuss you put up about bein' a boy," Henroin said as his wayward son was brought before him. "And you come back to me wearin' a fuckin' skirt."

"The facial hair evens it out." Angel quipped, scruffing up the fur on his face. "See?"

"So what's this shit I been hearin' about you turnin' tricks in movies?" Henroin continued, not amused in the slightest. "Indecent, is what that is."

"I know! Like I lost my damn mind or somethin', ain't it?" Angel quipped bitterly, pointing to his blacked out left eye. "Must be the hole in my head. Right up in the eye socket. It's a wonder I had enough brains left to kill myself after that!" Angel laughed, but it was cold; Forced.

"Angel!" Molly started to scold, but the much larger and more beastly spider raised one of his many hands to silence her.

"I know we haven't been the closest, Angel. That don't mean you ain't still part of the family." Henroin shifted in his chair, reaching toward an end table and opening the drawer. He took a piece of paper out and waved it a bit. "I got word that you went foolin' around with the TV network king himself. He ain't too happy that you and that other kook stole his shit."

"I didn't try to steal nothin'!" Angel corrected. "I was just the decoy. The plan failed anyway. I don't see why the jackass has his panties up in a bunch about it."

"It's a matter of makin' an example." Henroin pressed his fingers to where the bridge of a nose would have been if he had a nose at all. "You should know that from livin' with me since you was born."

"Well you always nagged about me never listenin' to you." Angel huffed. "Then you went and had my head scrambled!"

"I was tryin' to help you!"

"You were tryin' to _change_ me!"

"Can you two stop arguing for five seconds?" Arackniss spoke up from his seat near a corner, having stayed silent until now. He was softspoken, but in a way that demanded attention. "Dad, you can't force Angel to stay. He has to want to. You aren't making it easy for him to want to. Just…" Arackniss trailed off, staring at the wall. "Let it go. It's done. It doesn't matter anymore. We're dead too, Angel."

"It still matters a lot to me." Angel said, sounding much more seriously. 

"I'm tryin' to keep you safe. Whether you believe me or not." Said Henroin.

"I don't feel safe around you." Angel crossed both sets of arms and looked toward the floor.

"Angel, please." Molly asked, but her twin just shook his head.

"No."

"Do you have somewhere else safe to go?" Arackniss asked.

Angel had been staying by himself in a studio apartment, but it wasn't well protected. He could probably always back to Val but the more he considered that option the less it appealed to him. His old pimp might be able to protect him, sure, but the emotional cost had always been too high. He thought of the Radio Tower, but he didn't want to invite himself somewhere he may not be welcomed without invitation; He knew Alastor tolerated him at best. That left one place.

"Yeah. We gotta swing by my place to get my pig and then you can drop me off at the Happy Hotel." Angel decided.

Henroin scoffed, but Arackniss stood and grabbed his keys from a hook on the wall. Molly grabbed her purse and followed suit. 

"Do you have to keep throwin' how you died in Dad's face?" Molly asked when she and her brothers were back in the car. "It hurt us too, you know."

"Why shouldn't I? It's his damn fault." Angel answered bitterly, but some concern for his siblings did show on his face. 

"Did you actually do it on purpose?" Arackniss felt the need to ask.

"I don't know." Angel shrugged, a phantom pain suddenly shooting behind his left eye as he thought about his death and how numb and lost he had felt the weeks before. "Nah, I don't think I could'a strung enough thoughts together at the time to really want to die. I just knew getting high let me feel something and dippin' in what we was dealin' was an easy way to get as much as I wanted. Just overdid it that last time…"

Molly leaned over to hug Angel. Arackniss wasn't as physical, but he did awkwardly pat his little brother's shoulder which was just as appreciated. They had both died quickly in a shootout and couldn't truly understand the torment of being physically alive but so completely extinguished on the inside. Angel couldn't hold that against them, but the bad blood between he and his father was just too deep to trudge through. It had been Henroin that signed over his rights to some shady doctors in the first place.

"Hey at least dyin' made me _me_ again!" Angel tried to lighten the mood, having felt his sister start to tremble. He didn't want her to cry. "Now everybody down here has to deal with me and there ain't shit they can do about it."

"I still think you should stay with us." Arackniss grunted. "Are you sure that pansy hotel is safe?"

"It's run by the princess and the Radio Demon. If anybody touches it Lucifer'll probably lose his shit." Angel chuckled. "Room's free, too."

"Cheap bitch." Molly teased.

"You know it!" Angel agreed.

When they arrived at the hotel, Angel felt a wave of melancholy wash over him. He hadn't left on the best terms and even though he knew Charlie was the forgiving sort, he didn't want things to be awkward. There was also the high possibility of Alastor lurking around the property and the chance of running into the wendigo made Angel nervous even though he couldn't place an exact reason for it.

"Come in with me?" Angel asked, then realized how vulnerable he sounded. "Help me carry my shit, would you?"

Molly, of course, saw right through him. She said nothing though, grabbing one suitcase as Arackniss grabbed another. Angel carried only Nuggets and a bag of clothes. It took a lot more effort to step into the lobby than the last time; He knew exactly what he was signing up for this time around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lobotomy is my headcanon of why angel's eyes are Like That. Also since i have almost no info on angel's dad i kinda just went off of the godfather which i havent even seen since i was a kid (since for some reason my mother let me watch that but not cartoons??)


	13. Tripping in Circles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel goes back to the hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so dialogue heavy it hurts...

“Ho. Ly. Shit.” Said Husk from his place at the front desk. “The bastard came back.”

That was the only warning Angel got before he was tackled to the floor in a bone-crushing hug by the Hotel’s founding demon princess. There was the click of cocking guns from both of his siblings as they levelled matching tommy guns at Charlie, which prompted Vaggie to draw her own spear. Nuggets, freed from Angel’s arms, began squalling and running around while Niffty began to chase after them before they could make too much of a mess.

“Okay, everybody. Calm yer tits!” Angel said quickly from his place on the floor. “Hold yer fire, I’m fine. She’s just a hugger.” He specified to his brother and sister. “Charlie, get off of me, would’ja?” 

“Oh! Yeah. Sorry.” Charlie said, getting up and helping Angel up. “I just didn’t expect to see you again. Ever.” She looked over at the other spiders and grinned. “Oh you must be Angel’s family. Nice… guns.” She said nervously, only realizing a little late that she could have been shot. It likely wouldn’t do much more than inconvenience her, but it would still be painful for a moment at least. “Are you two here to check in as well?”

“Fuck, no.” Arackniss answered as Molly giggled.

“No, we just wanted to come in and see.” Molly said, knowing Angel had asked for their presence while settling in for his own comfort, but knowing her twin well enough to not give him away.

“Just me.” Angel confirmed. “Here, go ahead and go through my shit. At least I’m expecting it this time.” He gestured to his suitcases, which his siblings set down. “Only contraband in there is about half a dozen dildos.”

Arackniss promptly kicked the suitcase he’d been carrying across the floor, disgusted. Molly giggled.

“Relax, buddy. I’m kidding.” Angel chuckled. “I only packed two.”

“I’m going back to the car.” Arackniss huffed, but hugged his little brother on his way out. “Stay safe, kiddo.”

“Get bent!” Angel called after him, though he meant it in an endearing way. “So, Cha-cha, you gonna bring me the check-in book or what?”

“Oh! You’re actually…” Charlie said, stumbling over her surprise. “Wow! Uh, welcome back! Husk!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m getting the book.” Husk grunted, turning around and giving a halfhearted flap of his wings to reach a notebook kept above the bar. He handed it over to Vaggie, who reluctantly passed it to Charlie, who passed it to Angel. 

Angel signed into the first guest-page, then a copy of the sins file page, actually taking time to check the boxes for his most common vices; Hedonism and violence. It was more care than he had put in the first time, when he hadn't really thought about it. He'd thought it through this time. 

"You're actually serious?" Vaggie asked incredulously.

"Well I need somewhere to stay, don't I?" Angel deflected. 

"That's not good enough! Charlie-" Vaggie began.

"Let him stay." Charlie spoke over Vaggie. "It was _my_ fault he left."

"Just like that, huh?" Molly raised a brow, taking the file from her brother to look it over. She read it through, finding the idea less and less apealling the more she read. "Oh, ugh… I'll stay with Dad. Oh, but you have fun Angie!"

"Not likely." Angel huffed. "Oh, hey before the crazies take 'em from me." He fished a bag of assorted pills out of his shirt, swallowed half of them dry, and handed the rest over to his sister before giving her a hug and nudging her toward the door. "Waste not, whatever."

Molly frowned but wished him well as she left, lingering at the door for a moment before pulling it closed behind her. Angel was a bit melancholic to see her go, but knew it was for the best. 

Vaggie pinched the bridge of her nose, not looking forward to dealing with Angel while he was on whatever cocktail he just put into his stomach. She let out a deep sigh and put her focus toward herding the spider toward his room before the high actually hit him. Charlie followed close behind.

"Is Al around? I gotta talk to him." Angel asked, his singular pupil already starting to dilate. 

"He's been in a _mood._ " Charlie said. 

"I gotta." Angel reiterated.

"Not while high." Vaggie warned. "You get handsy and you know it."

"No, I can behave." Angel frowned. "I just need to tell him somethin' then I'll leave him alone. Important shit." 

"Should have thought of that before taking whatever poppers you just took." Vaggie scolded.

"No, those are important too cuz I gotta talk to him and then I gotta pass out before he gets mad at me." Angel explained, already regretting taking as much as he had. He likely wouldn't even remember any conversation he had in the next hour, but he hadn't wanted to waste the mixed drugs he'd had on him. They were expensive.

"Why would he get mad?" Charlie asked. "What happened?" 

"Can't tell you. Gotta be Al." Angel tapped his head. "S'a secret, babe."

"That's not comforting." Vaggie grunted, managing to steer Angel up the stairs and toward the room he'd stayed in before.

"You kept my room?" Angel asked, noting when the door opened that everything was the same as before he'd thrown and broken everything. The vanity had even been replaced. 

"Charlie's sentimental." Vaggie shrugged. "Sleep off the shit you took."

"Where's my pig?"

"Niffty's probably cleaning it. She'll bring it up later with your luggage." Charlie assured.

"I need to talk to Al." Angel repeated, forgetting he had already asked to do so. 

"You said that already. Do it later." Vaggie said, pushing Angel toward his bed

"Where's my pig?" Angel looked around, wobbling a bit. "Nuggets? Come back to daddy!" 

"Go to bed, Angel." Charlie said softly. "Everything'll be here when you wake up. Okay?"

"Yeah… Yeah okay." Angel finally accepted, pulling back a blanket to flop face first onto the bed. 

"Bucket?" Charlie asked Vaggie, pushing Angel to lay on his side once she realized he wasn't going to move on his own. 

"Bucket." Vaggie agreed with a sigh. "If he doesn't throw up, I'll eat my bow."


	14. Avoidance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Denial sure is a rivel somewhere in Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: withdrawal 
> 
> Sorry its short. Im tired and allergic to cinnamon and its autumn so everywhere i go it chemical warfare on my sinuses and benadryl likes to make me sleep.

Charlie had said that she would have Alastor stop by Angel's room once Angel had sobered up and levelled out. For that, despite how bad his shakes and migraines got, Angel actually managed to behave. Sadly it took weeks for him to even glimpse Alastor, who seemed to vanish every time Angel so much as made eye contact with him. It was annoying to say the least. 

"I gotta talk to you dammit!" Angel called after the wendigo's shadow, which always seemed to linger a few seconds longer than the demon it belonged to.

Alastor clearly did not want to talk to Angel. Angel, after a few days, bitterly decided that was fine. The flake could just deal with Vox by himself if it came down to that and Angel would have plenty enough to deal with when the shakes and migraines started up again. They started up with a vengeance, it seemed, along with constant agonizing itching and temperature fluxuations. Nausea seemed to be the worst of it so far.

Charlie, mercifully had learned through other patrons that quitting anything completely could not be done cold turkey and set up an allowance system for Husk's bar. Good behavior was rewarded with points that could be spent in exchange for a certain amount of alcohol or marijuana. Harder drugs were still considered contraband but at least there was something within reach to give Angel some relief. It wasn't nearly enough but it was more than nothing. 

Sometimes Angel even went to the bar, but for some reason he couldn't quite place it was just easier to stay in his room with his pig. Going downstairs took effort and someone always just had to point out that he looked tired or that he was shivering or sweating or that his pig was trying to eat the carpet and that it was rude to just let your pet do that. So Angel just stopped leaving his room for anything other than to let Nuggets outside to shit.

It wasn't all bad though. Even suffering through having to perceive everything around him with a clear head, sometimes he'd have an oddly pleasant tactile hallucination. Usually it was after a particularly painful heave or during a very strong sob Angel would think he felt something gently petting his hair or brushing his fur. It was strange but also so comforting that he didn't mind. 

 

 

 

 

When not in the kitchens trying to sate his perpetual starvation that seemed to have increased two-fold, Alastor was in his home under the Radio Tower, tuning into his various bugs he'd hidden all over Hell. The ones he focused on the most were at the Hotel since it seemed to be the only place new enough to not bore him. 

Alastor knew Angel Dust had returned to the Hotel. Besides seeing him both in person and through shadows, Alastor still had a microphone in the room Angel stayed in. A click of a dial and Alastor could hear everything in the room. 

He hated the crying.

Usually Alastor delighted in the sounds of pain, torture, and general discomfort. Screaming in particular was a favorite and crying was a very pleasant sort of audible seasoning. Coming from Angel's voice it was just grating. Irritating, if Alastor were asked to pick a word. It made him feel a bit useless and he had no idea how to stop that feeling when it really sank in. Rationally he knew he could just turn the dial to a different microphone or put his headphones away. He didn't want to.

Instead he turned in his chair to open a drawer. It was covered in various sigils and filled with dolls, each one resembling a demon Alastor had reason to work with, and a few left blank. He chose one of the blank ones and set it down gently on his desk and opened another drawer. It had bits and bundles of labelled hair, scales, and skin. A few strands of white fur is what he picked out. He set those next to the blank doll. 

Reaching under his desk, and momentarily catching an antler in the headphone cord in the process, he retrieved a shortbread cookie tin that was actually filled with various sewing supplies. Since the doll was already white he didn't have to waste time dying it any other color, which was convenient. He opened up the open seam in the back, wrapping the hair in a bit of pink string before placing it inside. He filled the doll the rest of the way with sand before sewing it up, then ripping two arms from another blank doll to attach to the important one.

It was a bit awkward for Alastor to sew with his right hand, but he felt that he couldn't make this particular effigy lefthanded; This one wasn't for _those_ Spirits. Embroidery, he found, was extremely difficult to do when working with an unpracticed hand. Normally voodoo dolls only needed form and a bit of the person they were made to represent. It would have been quick work if not for the fact Alastor felt the need to make it a perfect likeness.

By the time the doll was finished, Alastor could hear muffled retching letting him know Angel was in the bathroom. Probably filthy. Alastor grimaced and took a small doll's brush from his sewing kit, running it over the stringy 'fur' of the new toy he'd spent far too much time on. The retching suddenly didn't sound so painful, so Alastor kept it up until the room grew quiet. 

Alastor listened awhile longer to the sound of shaky breathing before he took his headphones off and put the doll down. 

"What am I doing?" He asked quietly to nobody at all.


	15. Sharing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor and Angel finally talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alastor is ace and Angel has probably never had a healthy romantic relationship in his life or death.

When Angel finally did see Alastor, the Radio demon was already waiting for him in his room, absently staring out of the window. Angel cursed and jumped, crawling partially backward up the wall in surprise. He had only gone out to walk Nuggets and didn't think he'd been gone from his room long enough to warrant a surprise. Also he never left his door unlocked. There was also the matter of the bad case of tremors making him a bit more irritable than usual.

"Fuckin' spook! How the heaven did you get in here?" Angel hissed. "Scared the shit outta me!"

“You’ve seen me destroy an armoured dirigible without even touching it. The fact you think I can be stopped by a mere door is laughable.” Alastor pointed out, then chuckled as he retrieved a small trinket from his pocket. “I have a skeleton key to the entire hotel.”

“Of course you do.” Angel sighed. “Okay, lemme rephrase. _Why_ are you in my room? I thought you were avoiding me.”

“Oh, I was.” Alastor agreed, his brilliant smile dimming a bit. “It wasn’t fixing anything.”

“What’s to fix?” Angel asked bluntly.

“...Me, I s’pose.” Alastor said with a shrug, dropping his false Radio accent. “Y’could’ve left me behind and feigned ign’rance, sha. Now we’re both in de pot.” 

“So you already know. Been tryin' to tell you. I don’t even know why I did that.” Angel admitted. “I guess I panicked?”

“Your panic response was to help me rather than run, then drag me to a safer space to tend to me medically?” Alastor deadpanned, the false accent back as his grin widened.

“Oh cut that shit out.” Angel scowled. “You kept runnin' from me every time I tried to talk to you for weeks! You take the damn mask off if you want a real conversation with me and quit actin’ all superior.”

Alastor flinched under Angel’s harsh tone before he let his expression relax. He sat down on Angel’s bed, looking toward the floor instead of meeting the other’s eyes. He said nothing.

Angel let the annoyance drain from him, relaxing as well. He sat down at his vanity instead of beside the wendigo as a rare show of respect of boundaries; He had come to realize that keeping some distance with Alastor was less to do with disgust to be taken personally and more to do with an aversion to being touched unexpectedly by anyone.

“What’s that you called me? Sha? That mean somethin’?” Angel asked, his voice softening.

“Slipped out.” Alastor deflected, but he was back to using his real, unfiltered and natural voice.

“Why are you really in my room, huh? I know it can’t just be for shits and giggles.” 

Alastor didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to. Sincerity wasn’t his strong suit and he wasn’t sure how to put his recent thoughts into words that would be well understood. He shifted on the bed, turning and laying flat on his back. He waved his hand, hesitation barely noticeable. 

“Lay wi’ me a while.”

“What?” Angel gawked, not expecting the invitation at all.

“I don’t wannu have sex wi’chu.” Alastor was quick to clarify, seeing the gears in the spider’s head turn the wrong direction. 

Angel hesitated before acquiescing, stepping up onto the bed and over the other demon to take up space by the wall; He didn’t want to risk Alastor feeling like he was blocked in. He laid down on his back, keeping both sets of his hands to himself and visibly crossed over his stomach. For a moment both of them just stared up at the ceiling and said nothing. They didn’t touch each other, though Angel's shivering could be felt through the mattress. It was almost a comfortable silence, if not for the radio interference that always hung around Alastor. The static and occasional scattered note of music kept Angel fully aware of who he was with and how strange it was to be in this situation.

“So… Al.” Angel waited for the other to correct his name, but the shortening of it went unchallenged. “Not for nothin’ but if you ain’t in here to fuck me then I’m lost. You need another distrac-”

“No.” Alastor cut him off, but didn’t elaborate.

“A fuck’s all I’m really good for.” Angel huffed. “Considerin’ I’m off the drugs and I’m not supposed to be manifestin’ guns on Hotel grounds.” 

“I...Hmm…” Alastor fumbled over his words, and the fact was so strange that Angel had to prop himself up onto two of his elbows to look at the other demon currently sharing his bed properly. 

“Just spit it out, Al.” Angel encouraged. “You know I ain’t got the right to judge shit.”

“I can’t get you out my head and for once I think killin’ you may not be de answer.” Alastor blurted as he had been instructed. "Not de best at new things."

“Oh.” Angel answered dumbly, not sure what he had been expecting. “Sounds like you got a crush, babe.”

“I don’t wannu have sex wi’chu.” Alastor repeated, squinting up at the spider.

“Nobody said you _have_ to.” Angel rolled his eyes. “Though I can’t imagine why me if you ain’t in it for an easy screw.”

“Vulgar.” Alastor scolded tiredly.

“Prude.” Angel scoffed. “And you’re full of shit. C'mon, _me?_ You lost your fuckin' mind.”

“You’re honest.” Alastor said simply. “Not wi’ everyone, but always to yourself. It’s admirable.”

“Tried lyin’ to myself enough while I was alive jus’ tryin’ to keep the peace. Got sick of it and died.” Angel shrugged, rolling onto his stomach and resting his head on one of his hands. “I think endin’ up in Hell may have been the best thing to happen to me. There’s nothin’s worse to threaten me with, you know? Except maybe whatever happens when some Heavenly Square sticks a spear in us. But that’s not even a punishment, it’s just… a thing that happens when you get unlucky. There's nothin' left to threaten me with. Why _you_ still feel the need to play yourself as a smilin’ snob, aside from politics I guess, just seems like it’s exhaustin’.”

“Talk about…" Alastor agreed, his arm shifting to take one of Angel’s lower hands in his own.

Angel reciprocated easily, though he couldn’t keep the surprise out of his tone. “Oh _now_ my filthy whore hands are good enough for you?” He teased. “Thought you were too proper to be a friend of Dorothy.”

“Never quite sure if I was temperamental or not.” Alastor admitted. “Never looked twice at anyone really.” 

“Sounds lonely.”

“Peaceful.” Alastor corrected. “Though I could do with excitement occasionally.” 

“Oh?” Angel perked up.

“Not that sort.” Alastor grimaced. “Too messy.”

“Boo.” Angel whined, though he accepted the answer. "I don't really talk feelin's much." Angel admitted with a sigh, taking his hand back and sitting up. "Not used to affection without strings attached. I think the only people who've ever actually shown me a lick of decency wanted a lick in return if you catch my drift."

"I'd prefer not to catch it, but yes. I understand your innuendo." Alastor nodded.

"Or they were family. Or Charlie. Sometimes Cherri but then it's a matter of havin' a dance partner to break shit with." Angel continued. "I'm startin' to jump tracks. My point is I don't mind you havin' a crush on me but I have no clue how to handle that considerin' I'm used to bein' a fucktoy. Heaven, I'm _comfortable_ bein' just a fucktoy! I know exactly what I'm doin' in that kinda scenario but this… This is new shit."

Alastor sighed, sitting up as well. "Would you like me to leave? I won't bother you with this if-"

"I didn't say new is bad." Angel interrupted. "Stay."


End file.
